Gravity
by superfufu
Summary: The war has ended, but another familiar union sparks anew as ZAFT regains a prisoner of war. A reunion of comrades, a renewal of bonds... And everybody thought there was no gravity in space? [YzakDearka, plus mild spoiler hints.]


**Gravity **

"Sir, you are summoned to the lower levels."

"Is it urgent?"

"No, sir. I believe it's for consultation over some configuration modifications, sir."

"Tell them I'll spare a moment."

"Sir." The man did the ever-ceremonious salute to the higher official that was with him, and the silver-haired young man offered a salute of his own as an answer before the soldier floated away.

Yzak Jule, once the envious, hormone-rebellious, hot-tempered kid who always wanted what he wanted, and whined violently if he did not get it. And what was he now?

The cold steel structure of the hangar gave comfort to him, as he stood there, marveling the glory of his trusted Duel, proud and battered by war, with all the peace in the world confined in that single space that was his world right now.

He smiled.

What was he now?

That smile on his face – a genuine smile, not the mocking smile he always used to give his once resented in-charge Athrun Zala, or the whole world for that matter – could only mean one thing.

He was, indeed, truly, and evidently, _happy _today.

Although for some reason he did not want anybody to see him smile like that. Trained to be a soldier since he could remember, he felt that it was part of his duty to display that serious no-nonsense character so that his subords would not falter. Or perhaps that was a fake wall-like mask – something he should willfully pulverize and condemn to the farthest edges of the universe -- as one of the people closest to him would say. He smiled briefly at the remembrance.

Then, sensing a foreign presence, he quickly put the wall-like face on, and pretended not to have noticed the person who just ever so rudely barged in his precious alone time.

"You could smile in front of other people, man, I mean, your smile's just _pretty, _y'kno that?"

Speaking of the devil.

"Hm. Elthman." The silver-haired man just plainly, indifferently, acknowledged.

"Elthman? _Elthman?? _Fuck you, Yzak."

Dearka Elthman. The blonde wall that had always been behind Yzak wherever, whenever. And not only a wall to lean on or to hit or anything – he'd transform into anything that was appropriate for the occasion. A wake up call, an alarm clock, the hands to steady Yzak's shoulders whenever he'd lose control of himself, the cold water that doused his bad temper. Or sometimes an offending stone to kick.

Yzak floated towards Duel's cockpit entrance. "That was a joke, moron." He said, bluntly, as he pushed the button to open the threshold.

"Ah. That was a joke. Ok. I'm a moron. Ok." The dark blonde pouted.

Now this silver-haired young man can't help but let out a small laugh. "What is with you today?" He said, as he raised an eyebrow. Like he was really uninterested to know. He just hovered by the entrance, scouting his eyes inside Duel's cockpit.

"Well, it's not a couple of days since I've been back here, and we haven't talked since, and now you piss me off!"

"Be quiet, Elthman. You're acting like an attention whore, screaming like that."

"Well who cares?? Everybody knows Captain Jule is a big prick!"

Yzak just nodded slightly, not a bit swayed with Dearka's antics. "My promotion's not yet official."

"You get down here and I'll give you what you deserve!"

"And what is that?"

Dearka made a throaty growl. "Well, whatever. Just get down here."

"Why don't _you_, just go _up_ here, and _we'll_ get down. How's that sound?" Yzak, then, sat on the pilot's chair, and tinkered with the different buttons above him, like a maintenance check. Or something.

"…"

"Why silent all of a sudden?" Yzak said, his tone challenging, as he eyed Dearka's face, which is evidently flushed even from their distance. "Want me to pull that tongue out for you?" He said, in an effortlessly liquid voice.

"…"

"I'm kidding, Dearka. Don't die of heart attack."

Red scorched at the blonde's ears. "You're toying with me again!" He shouted. "So much for a warm welcome, tch." He breathed forcefully, as he floated away. "Bastard."

"Ok, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Dearka looked up where Yzak was, and saw a smile on his lips. A self-satisfied, very Yzak-like one. "And I suppose you're amused of all this? What am I, your clown?"

"Well, you could put it that way…" Yzak started, but then Dearka aimed to go again. "I'm just kidding! You come over here."

But the dark blonde boy just narrowed his eyes at him.

"That's an order."

Snob.

"Please?"

And Yzak Jule hardly ever said please for _anything_.

So, Dearka obliged.

The blonde sat by the entrance of the cockpit, his back facing his companion.

"And I thought _I _had a bad temper." Yzak said, now typing away at the pull-down keyboard in front of him. "You're so cute when you freak out like that."

Silence.

"I never thought I'd come back here." Dearka said, as if in the middle of his thoughts.

"But you did."

"Yeah. I did afterall. Ever wonder why?"

"No."

Dearka turned to look at Yzak, whose eyes were pasted in the screen. "You know why I came back?"

"Positive."

The blonde boy smiled warmly. "And why did I come back, then?"

"Well now let's see…" The silver-haired boy said, his tone flat and steady. Unthinking. "…Nah. I give up. I don't know."

"I hate you, Yzak."

Now, this was one of the rare times that Dearka actually sounded serious. Not the tone that sounded like he could give carefree comments or laugh immediately after uttering his phrases – just, plainly, serious.

And, even Yzak Jule, the closest Dearka has ever been to, rarely heard his friend talk serious like this. So now he, being the previously unsociable creature that he is, was at a blurred loss of words or action. An awkward but barely noticeable pause. Yzak just kept his lips pursed and continued typing away in his keyboard, and only the monotonous sound of keys echoed in the quiet of the hangar.

The dark blonde looked far ahead. "Did you even miss me?" He asked, quietly, and somewhat rhetoric.

Still, not a word from his silver-haired friend.

Dearka let out a short huff, forcing a bitter smile on his lips as he dismissed the blurring of his vision. And he didn't really feel like saying anything. He just let out a short huff once and again.

Just then, the keyboard chatter cut off.

_"I did, Dearka."_

The blonde turned his head to his companion, who was now crouched slightly behind him, and their eyes caught.

"I missed you." Yzak said, and Dearka almost wanted to grin in the warmness in the other man's voice, accompanied by an equally warm smile.

"So you did. Is it my cue to laugh now?"

"Ha. Ha."

Silence.

"Did you really?"

Yzak laughed, his eyes reflecting fondness of Dearka's childlike tone. "Yes I did. I thought you were dead, for goodness' sakes."

"Now answer me honestly, you. Were you sad when you thought I was dead?"

The silver-haired young man stood up, sat back in his chair, and resumed to his work as Dearka awaited an answer.

"_SO?_"

"Imagine an elite like me. Red uniform."

"Yeah?"

"Going with the lowly, _lowly_ rescue troops. Orange… Well, whatever hell color their uniform was."

"You did that?"

Yzak did not feel the need to answer anymore. Afterall, it was impossible not to hear Dearka grinning while he was speaking – he definitely understood what that statement meant. His cobalt eyes were fixated on the screen, to whatever hell he was doing. "So, enough of you asking me. Why did you come back?"

"I thought you know everything."

"Yeah, I know you found yourself a girlfriend in the Archangel."

One of Dearka's eyebrows rose, and his reaction initiated a challenging tone. "Oh really?"

"Mirialla, is that right?"

"Ok, so I did find myself one."

"Does that answer my question?"

"What was your question again?"

"Moron."

And Dearka laughed, for he felt that for once, he wasn't in…let's say, the losing end of the game. Like, he was in control of the conversation for once, and not just dancing in Yzak's wicked palm. He got up, floated up to Yzak, and stood in front of him, thus blocking the light from the outside. Both his arms were folded, arms resting on either hip. "Yzak, tell me. Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? Me?" Yzak put up an indifferent face.

But Dearka never bought any of it.

"Well, I think you're jealous, because I had a girlfriend there."

"And so?"

"And you were here, _all alone_."

"I had Captain Le Kreuze."

"Not me."

"He took _good _care of me."

"…Still not me."

Silence.

"So what are you saying?"

"That you're happy that I'm back."

"And?"

"Why can't you just say it? Nobody else can hear you." Dearka uttered in disbelief.

The typing stopped again. "Ok, so…" Yzak rolled his eyes in disinterest. "I'm happy that you're here with me, and not there with your girlfriend, I missed you, welcome back."

Dearka's shoulders dropped. "Damn, Yzak!"

"What? Aren't you happy? Wasn't that everything you wanted to hear?"

Dearka sighed. "You could at least act like you're interested!" He said, exasperatedly, like he was explaining something for a hundredth time to a hardheaded prep student.

"That's hard, you know."

"So that's what I wanted to hear. But that wasn't what you wanted to say, was it?"

Yzak looked up to Dearka, and looked into his deep mauve eyes. They were unhappy, misty pits, like a bullied child's eyes. "Look, Dearka. I'm not good at these things. You know that, don't you?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry." The blonde said, obviously downhearted, as he moved to get back to his previous position at the edge of the threshold. "I just…"

Until a hand caught his. He stopped, gained leverage, and turned around to Yzak again.

"I may not be good, but that's what I wanted to say. Sorry."

Silence.

"Millie's not my girlfriend, Yzak."

The other boy laughed. "Who cares? You're here."

Misty cobalt eyes widened as Yzak realized that he was feeling Dearka's unruly blonde hair on the side of his face. Sturdy arms circled around him in a tight grip, and a hand settled on the back of his neck.

He didn't even know where the keyboard he was typing on had gone.

"You know, Yzak…"

"N?"

"I never thought I'd get to see you again." Dearka huffed a bit, familiar horrible feelings of the past war rushing up inside him in memory. "When I realized I had survived… I didn't care. I didn't care where I was… I just wanted to get out and fly off, and look for you somewhere in the field. I didn't care. I just really… damn."

"Were you sad?"

"Yeah. Very. And scared. And suicidal."

Yzak pushed Dearka slightly, and the blonde could've been almost put down again, if only for the closing cockpit entrance. Lights flicked on.

"You don't want anybody to see us?" The blonde asked, with a raised brow and the beginnings of a grin. Asked like he really knew that the answer was a yes. But he asked anyway.

"I'm a selfish brat, you know."

Dearka laughed, as he plopped himself on Yzak's lap, his arms resting on either of the other's shoulders. "And did you notice that this thing—"

"I know very well how small this place is, idiot. But who cares?"

"Impatient, selfish little brat you are."

"Yeah." Arms circled around Dearka's waist, palms resting on the small of his back, pulling him nearer. Yzak tilted his chin up to the blonde, killing the distance between this faces, making their breathing more audible for the other. One of the dark blonde's hands curved around Yzak's nape, and the other one cradled the silver-haired boy's face.

For one, Yzak loved gazing into Dearka's eyes. They were dark. Such a dark amethyst… but very clear. From a far they look like such lazy plain, dark marbles, even if they were wide and innocent-like. But from this distance… it was always some kind of pleasure for him to know that one can only see the genuine vagueness of Dearka's eyes from this close.

Dearka had the slightest urge to turn away from Yzak's stare. Those endless pits of grayish blue, framed with subtle, long lashes, matched with equally intense eyebrows, never failed to make currents run down his spine. Such intense…mystery. His face reddened, but still, Yzak's eyes did not tear off from his amethyst ones.

"Damn, Yzak, you look prettier than when I last saw you this close." The blonde whispered as he smiled fondly at his friend.

Yzak held the hand that was on the side of his face, and traced the tip of Dearka's pointing finger to where the tan scar ran down across his face. Dearka smiled and placed a kiss on Yzak's forehead. "Still doesn't change my mind."

The silver-haired boy stretched his neck more to reach closer to Dearka's face. The blonde, in turn, lowered his head. Their lips were only milliseconds apart, but they never moved, loving the warm feeling of heat and breath on their mouths, as they continued to gaze in each other's eyes.

"You know, Yzak," Dearka breathed softly, "I've been through hell without you, back there, for so long."

"It feels like it's been a lifetime." Yzak whispered back, before finally closing the gap between their lips.

The blonde boy, in turn, responded to Yzak's caress with his own longing. He felt like the deep, gaping hollow in his chest had been filled with its usual warmth and bliss again, and overflowed, now that he was back where he knew he truly belonged, now that his heart is back to where it should be.

"But you know, I really wasn't at all jealous of Millie."

"Yeah, you weren't. You were… what, murderous? Pointing a gun at me like that…"

Laughter.

"Bastard."

_--fin_


End file.
